Chapter 642

"Where's the letter?" Aegor chuckled softly, shaking his head as he extended a hand.

His enemies, it seemed, had chosen the most laughable of tactics—without knowing the exact formula, they had blindly sent an anonymous letter in an attempt to scare him.

Was there a better phrase for this than beating the grass to startle the snake?

And yet… how many days had even passed since the Golden Company had been blasted apart?

The speaker was careless, but the listener took it to heart.

Nina, who had been preparing to leave, suddenly froze as if struck by lightning.

If their enemy had been led by someone with greater boldness and patience, they could have simply kept silent, developed the technology in secret, and then used it to catch Aegor completely off guard—turning the battlefield into a stage for negotiation, perhaps even making a real play to put Young Aegon on the throne.

She had intended for her brother to share some of the burden, to lead the investigation into how such a critical secret had been leaked. But after hearing her concerns, Neil had merely scoffed:

"Gunpowder? Isn’t it just sulfur and saltpeter mixed together? Anyone in the industrial park could’ve guessed that. No need for a leak."

Aegor had managed to keep the secret of black powder hidden for so long not just through a masterful strategy of deception—burying its existence under the grander narrative of "fighting the Others"—but also by employing a method of compartmentalization and flat management. The key military secrets were strictly isolated within the Night’s Watch armory, while every other department operated independently, with no access to the core information.

Nina's reaction was odd, but Aegor didn’t overthink it. Casually taking the original letter, he leaned back in his chair, unfolded the parchment, and began to read.

The sender had taken a gamble—and lost.

Margaery Tyrell… That little fox really does have her fingers in every pie.

“What’s wrong?” Aegor frowned. “Stand up and speak slowly.”

In his original assessment, even in the worst-case scenario, the secret of gunpowder shouldn’t have leaked so quickly. He had expected that it would take at least until the war within Westeros had been decided—only after the world knew that the Queen’s side possessed such a devastating weapon would external forces like Braavos or Volantis send spies, Faceless Men, or other operatives to steal the formula.

A year, at the very least.

It was hard to imagine that brilliant minds like the Queen of Thorns or formidable commanders like Randyll Tarly would make such an amateur mistake. Given the odd delivery method and lack of a signature, this was likely not an official decision from the Reach’s ruling class. More likely, it was the desperate act of some minor noble whose lands lay too close to the front lines—someone terrified of being trampled by the coming war.

After scanning the contents, Aegor exhaled deeply and placed the letter on the table.

He had expected the secret to leak eventually—but even so, he had not imagined it would happen this quickly.

Rather than intimidating Aegor, the letter had done the opposite—it had utterly exposed the sender’s panic and lack of confidence.

The layers of deception surrounding the secret of gunpowder had worked—but they were not impenetrable. The Night’s Watch’s industrial complex was powerful, yes, but it was not a sovereign state, a unified government, or an isolated civilization.

Neil had scoffed, "Everyone in the industrial park already knows."

I didn’t know, Nina thought bitterly. Not because she was stupid, but because she was simply too busy managing the sprawling enterprise to waste time pondering the exact composition of gunpowder.

Had her brother—perhaps because of his position—unintentionally pieced together the secret and casually let it slip?

She quickly stepped forward, retrieved the letter with both hands, and presented it to Aegor before stepping back, standing silently with her hands at her sides.

Aegor thought for half a minute but couldn't immediately sort out his thoughts. He didn’t want Nina kneeling there the entire time, so he sighed and sat up straight.

"Where is he?"

Nina hesitated, then made an unexpected move—she dropped to her knees before his desk with a heavy thud.

Aegor raised an eyebrow. Am I really that frightening?

The princess quietly left the room and shut the door behind her, leaving them alone. But before Aegor could even speak, Nina lifted her tear-filled eyes and pleaded,

"My lord, I may know who leaked the secret—but I beg you, for the sake of the years my brother and I have loyally served you, please spare his life!"

Neil?

The enemy’s threats hadn’t unnerved him, but his most trusted aide’s behavior did.

That afternoon, while Aegor had been commanding the war council, Nina had been at Blackwall Keep, as usual, handling the complex affairs of the industrial park.

Then, the letter had arrived.

She had read it, immediately grasped its significance, and abandoned all her tasks to rush to the capital. Just before leaving, she had run into her brother and, in passing, mentioned the matter to him.

The enemy might have figured out that gunpowder was a combination of sulfur, carbon, and saltpeter—but they absolutely did not know the precise ratios.

If they had, the letter would have included the exact formula as a greater show of force. Or, worse, they would have already begun production—gathering the resources to rapidly churn out hundreds of pounds of explosives. Then, when Aegor’s army marched into the Reach, they would have staged a demonstration—just as Aegor had once cowed the Westerlands into inaction by obliterating a Lannister stronghold.

This was going to be a tough battle.

Nina’s mind raced. Margaery Tyrell had been unusually close to her and Neil for some time, frequently visiting the industrial complex under the guise of business negotiations.

A chilling thought took root.

Nina had immediately turned on her brother, pressing him mercilessly, demanding to know whether he had ever let slip any information to the Tyrells.

Aegor closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose.

So, this is a contest of who has the more incompetent allies now?

The good news: Nina hadn’t known about this beforehand, nor had she deliberately allowed it to happen.

The bad news: Neil, a founding member of the Night’s Watch industrial empire—and in some ways, Aegor’s brother-in-law—had leaked military secrets. Whether intentional or accidental, the consequences were disastrous.

This? This is what I'm dealing with?

As he traced the implications of the letter further, Aegor began to see the broader picture of the Reach’s current state.

They had leaks. That much was certain.

But the existence of a leak also meant that their internal factions were divided.

If there were idiots on their side, there were idiots on the other side as well. But more importantly—this also confirmed that enough of the Reach’s leadership had realized Aegor’s true intent.

They knew he was planning to burn House Gardener’s descendants from their soil.

And they had steeled themselves for resistance.

Aegor rubbed his forehead.

The industrial empire he had built over years of rapid expansion was a colossus—unstoppable when facing open confrontation, but riddled with cracks upon closer inspection.

Tens of thousands of people worked within it, but the vast majority were there for a wage, not out of ideological loyalty. There was no language, cultural, or religious barrier separating them from the outside world. And at the end of the day, the formula for gunpowder wasn’t that complex.

Even if they tried to keep it secret, any competent alchemist who had a vague idea of what to look for would figure it out eventually.

He needed to act—quietly.

Without altering the war plans, he had to prepare for the possibility that the Reach would get gunpowder into working order before the final battle.

"Bring him here," Aegor ordered.

Nina remained kneeling, her gaze desperate.

He fixed her with a cold stare. "Tell me everything. From the beginning. Leave nothing out."